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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415168">The Phantom of Mankai Theatre</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribo_ad_astra/pseuds/scribo_ad_astra'>scribo_ad_astra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A3! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:00:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,801</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24415168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribo_ad_astra/pseuds/scribo_ad_astra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Floors creak in the middle of the night. Whispers can be heard from empty rooms. If you dare look into the shadows, you might find a pair of eyes staring back at you. There's no doubt about it- the Mankai dorms are haunted.<br/>(Alternatively, local triangle cryptid terrorizes some amateur actors, more at eleven.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Phantom of Mankai Theatre</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Do you ever think about Misumi living in the dorms for weeks because I do, I do a lot.<br/>Slight spoilers on Citron's part, but I tried to keep it as vague as possible, so it should be fine, I think.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sakuya hugged the manila folder to his chest and gazed up at the theater. Below the rusted sign, the newest thing on the run-down building was the lettering on the marquee: R0ME0 1N L0VE - 0PEN1NG T0M0R0W.  He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. </p><p>The lobby was dim, the only light coming in through the windows, and a thin layer of dust covered everything. Sakuya coughed. “Um, hello?!” </p><p>Complete silence. Maybe nobody was here, he realized. Maybe the last theater had gotten mixed up when they told him about this place, accidentally giving him the wrong directions or something. </p><p>
  <em> “Just two blocks down to the left,” the senior actor had said, smirking. “Mankai Theatre, can’t miss it. That’d be the perfect company for you.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Really? Thanks for the help!” </em> </p><p>A mouse scurried across the floor. Sakuya grimaced. He’d figured the actor was making fun of him, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad. Oh, well, he’d just go home and try again tomorrow. There must be a few theaters he hadn’t auditioned for yet. </p><p>He turned back to the door, ready to leave, when another sound made him pause. <em> Footsteps? </em> He looked back. </p><p>“Wait!” Someone was running towards him. He stopped, panting. “Sorry - I heard you - other side of the building - can I help you?”</p><p>“Who are you?” Sakuya asked in confusion.</p><p>The man straightened up. “Matsukawa Isuke. I’m the manager for this theatre. And you are?”</p><p>“Sakuya - Sakuma Sakuya. I’m here to audition.”</p><p>At the manager’s silence, he hastily added, “I know it’s last minute, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me! I can just be a background character, even if it’s just one scene I-”</p><p>The manager put his hand up. “Sorry, back up. Did you say you want to audition?”</p><p>“Yes?” He shifted nervously. “I don’t have any experience, but I’m a quick learner. Here’s my portfolio!” He bowed and held out the manila folder, squeezing his eyes shut when he felt the manager take it. It was pretty thin, only one sheet of paper with a dismally empty “credits” section, but he’d saved up enough money in the last three years to spring for a decent-looking headshot which he’d hoped would impress.</p><p>“Congrats,” the manager said as he handed the folder back. </p><p>Sakuya stood up, surprised. “You’re going to let me audition?” </p><p>“No, you passed the audition! You’re going to be our lead!”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“...”</p><p>“...What?”</p><p>Sakuya felt like he'd stumbled onto a train without any brakes. The manager grabbed his arm and practically dragged him onstage, thrusting a script into his face and telling him to start rehearsing. The script itself was three pages long and only had two parts: a lead and one supporting role (who Sakuya quickly found out was being played by the company mascot, a Major Mitchell’s Cockatoo). The hours rushed by in a blur of reading and repeating, memorizing lines and blocking, learning the lighting and sound cues. There was a lot of information to take in, even with such a short time frame, and Sakuya’s head was spinning. Still, he’d been given this one -and possibly only- chance, and he was determined to see it through successfully. </p><p>By the twentieth run-through he was completely off-script (well, mostly. There was still that monologue in the middle, and a couple lines at the end...). </p><p><em> “I’m carrying a torch for-” </em>his stomach growled loudly and he stopped. “Um, sorry! Can I do that line again?”</p><p>“Go ahead.” Matsukawa looked at his watch. “Er, on second thought, we’ll stop here for the night.”</p><p>Sakuya took his phone out and checked the time. <em> 8:45 already? Wow. </em> “What time does rehearsal start tomorrow?”</p><p>“Whenever you want, so long as you’re here for the actual play,” he laughed nervously. Sakuya thought for a minute. </p><p>“Do you mind if I come practice in the morning before school?”</p><p>“If that’s the case, why don’t you spend the night in our dorms?” </p><p>His face lit up. “Can I?”</p><p>It only took ten minutes for him to run to the house and grab the suitcase he kept his belongings in. He found a post-it note and scrawled <em> staying out overnight </em> before sticking it to the fridge, in between his cousins’ drawings and report cards. The plant by the door was looking a little dry, so he stopped to give it some water as well. Then he hurried back to the theater. </p><p>The dorms were situated behind the theater proper, a two story C-shaped building with a courtyard in the middle. "Pick any room you want," the manager told him. Sakuya wasn't picky, so he just opened the first door he came across. </p><p>The room was quite average in size, the loft beds making it more spacious. Aside from the beds and desks, it was plain and unfurnished. </p><p>"I'll get you some sheets and pillows from the closet," Matsukawa said. "Did you eat dinner yet?"</p><p>Sakuya shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak - there was a lump in his throat, and if he opened his mouth he felt like he would start crying. </p><p>"No problem, I'll have something whipped up in no time!"</p><p>"Run while you can," Kamekichi squawked. Sakuya laughed. And while he had certainly eaten more edible dinners, none of those meals compared to one that had been prepared specifically with him in mind. </p><p>After dinner and a bath, Sakuya was snuggled in his new bed. It was the first time since he could remember that he finally had a room to himself, and that coupled with the soft blankets fresh from the dryer made him feel like he could sleep forever. </p><p>Or at least, it should. </p><p>Sakuya stared up at the ceiling. He hadn't realized how used he'd gotten to sleeping with other people - or how <em> not </em> used he was to being alone. His cousins were always so noisy, tossing and snoring in their sleep. But this silence, this complete and utter silence, was louder than anything. It buzzed in his ears, screamed at him and made him acutely aware of every tiny sound, every creak of the building as it settled and every whisper of wind that swirled through the courtyard. </p><p>Sakuya squeezed his eyes shut. <em> It's fine, there's nothing to worry about. The manager's just a few rooms down.  </em></p><p>The floorboards creaked again. Sakuya's mind was suddenly flooded with every slasher flick and summer camp ghost story he'd heard. He huddled under the covers and, although he wasn't scared of the dark, debated going down to turn the lamp on. </p><p><em> Shuffle, shuffle</em>. </p><p>Sakuya sat up- "ow!" He winced and braced his head. Right. Loft bed, ceiling. He was going to have to get used to that. </p><p>The pain subsided after a few seconds, but the prickle on the back of his neck didn't. </p><p><em> Shuffle, shuffle. </em> There it was again, right outside his door!</p><p>"M-manager?" He whispered, half-afraid to be heard. "Is that you?"</p><p>Silence. Sakuya waited, holding his breath. He could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, his own heart pounding in time. </p><p><em> Sigh</em>. A soft sound, barely more than a whisper. </p><p>“It’s just the wind in the courtyard,” Sakuya mumbled to himself as he burrowed under the blanket. “There’s nothing to be scared of. Nothing to be scared of.” He repeated the refrain silently several more times. And even though he didn’t remember falling asleep, the next thing he knew he was waking up to the sound of his alarm. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Masumi knelt down, rifling through the dresser. Not there. He stood up and walked over to the laundry hamper, turning it upside down and shaking it just in case anything did get stuck in there during today’s trip to the laundry room. Not there either. Masumi frowned, he was running out of places to look. </p><p>“Are you okay, Masumi-kun?” Tsuzuru swiveled around in his desk chair. “You look like something’s bothering you.”</p><p>“Socks,” the younger boy muttered. </p><p>“Huh?” Tsuzuru leaned back and Masumi could see the word document on his computer - excluding the assignment’s guidelines, the very blank word document. </p><p>“Socks?” he repeated back, just in case he misheard. </p><p>Masumi pointed to the clothes hamper, not looking up as he opened another drawer. “I can’t find some socks. I just washed them.” </p><p>“Oh,” Tsuzuru smiled. “The sock monster strikes again, then.”</p><p>Masumi’s head snapped up. “Sock monster?” He stared at the college student intently, and more than a little intimidatingly. </p><p>“Well, it’s not like a real monster,” Tsuzuru amended, looking back at his computer. “Although, that might not be a bad idea...think a short story about a laundry demon might work?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Hah, guess you’re right,” he sighed. Several words were typed in, only to be deleted just as quickly as the writer put his head on his desk and groaned. </p><p>Masumi decided to leave the room. (Writers sure were weird, he thought.) Sakuya and Citron were both sympathetic when he asked them about missing socks, although the ten minute search through their own belongings didn’t yield anything useful. Itaru was decidedly less helpful. Whatever, Masumi huffed as the door slammed in his face. Chigasaki probably didn’t wash his own socks anyways. </p><p>He traced the path back to the laundry room, eyes sweeping the floor intensely. He was so preoccupied, he didn’t even notice before tumbling into someone.</p><p>“Ah! Sorry, Masumi!” Izumi cried. “Are you okay?”</p><p>There she was, standing above him like an angel in one of those old European paintings, the light from the window bathing her head like a halo. Her eyes were gentle with concern, and her dark hair brushed over her shoulders with the aromatic fragrance of her natural honey-based shampoo. Masumi closed his eyes. Izumi always smelled nice. Not like the girls in his class who drowned themselves in asphyxiating body washes and perfumes. </p><p>“Masumi! Masumi!” He opened his eyes. Izumi had knelt down, placing her hand on his forehead in panic. “You don’t have a concussion, do you?” </p><p>No, he was fine. He was more than fine. </p><p>“You just closed your eyes. Do you- do you need help?” </p><p>Masumi nodded. Izumi leaned closer. “What is it?”</p><p>“...CPR,” he said, looking at her longingly. </p><p>“Oh. You’re fine.” Izumi stood up, dropping his arm and his dreams. She did help him to his feet, though, so Masumi decided to forgive her. (What? You expected him to stay mad at that cute face?)</p><p>“What are you doing here, anyway?” She asked. </p><p>“I lost some socks,” he answered. </p><p>“You too?” Izumi smiled. “I lost my earring, so I’m checking if it fell in when I was doing laundry earlier. What did your socks look like?”</p><p>“Black and gray chevron. What does your earring look like?”</p><p>“Like this,” she tucked her hair behind her right ear, showing the gold-plated jewelry with tiny triangles layered in multiple tiers. </p><p>They scoured the laundry room and surrounding hallway together, but their search was futile. <br/>“It’s too bad,” Izumi sighed after they both mutually agreed to defeat. “I liked those earrings.” </p><p>“I’ll buy you some new ones,” Masumi offered. Not the cheap kind, but ones made with genuine 24-karat gold. Maybe with some diamonds for good measure, as well as her birthstone. And a matching necklace to go with it. And then a ring, in an unassuming yet elegant black box-</p><p>“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” She patted his head. Masumi frowned. (Looks like he still had a lot of work to do.)</p><p>He went back to his room. </p><p>“Find them?” Tsuzuru asked. Masumi shook his head. </p><p>“You’re still working on that assignment?”</p><p>“I’m getting closer.”</p><p>“The screen is blank,” he pointed out. </p><p>“It’s a <em> process</em>.” </p><p>See what he means? Weirdoes. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”</p><p>“Night.” Tsuzuru clicked on his lamp so Masumi could turn off the main light. He climbed into bed and selected a track from his playlist to fall asleep to.</p><p>“...It <em> is </em> pretty strange,” Tsuzuru commented after a few minutes. Masumi rolled over, taking one of his earbuds out. </p><p>“What is?”</p><p>“That both socks went missing at the same time.” </p><p>“Oh. Yeah.” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>This was getting to be a problem. </p><p>“Citron, have you been eating my food?” Tsuzuru asked as he frowned at the open fridge. </p><p>“You mean your bento boxes? I have not taught those.” </p><p>“It’s ‘touched’, and SOMEONE has been.” </p><p>“Has been what?” Izumi asked as she walked into the kitchen with an armful of grocery bags. Masumi was practically stepping on her heels as he trailed behind her, with Sakuya tagging along. </p><p>“You know how I got some bentoes from the convenience store to take for lunch?”</p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p>“Well, somebody-” he glared accusingly at the two high schoolers, “smuggled a few bites.”</p><p>“It wasn’t me!” Sakuya said automatically. Masumi just shook his head. </p><p>Tsuzuru crossed his arms. He’d thought being an older brother had sharpened his lie-detecting skills to a fine point, but these suspects were proving tough to crack. </p><p>“I know it’s someone in this room.” </p><p>“What about Itaru?” Citron asked. </p><p>“You think Itaru would willingly take vegetables?”</p><p>“Mm, point.”</p><p>Izumi opened the fridge and looked at the plastic boxes, her eyebrow furrowed as if she was inspecting a dead body instead of a missing food case. “Hmm, the seal’s definitely been broken. But it doesn’t look like this thief stole much food.” </p><p>“Maybe someone’s trying to poison you,” Masumi said flatly. </p><p>“What?” Sakuya cried. “Who would do that?”</p><p>Masumi shrugged. Tsuzuru pointedly ignored him - another older-brother perk, death threats didn’t faze him. </p><p>“No, they only took all the onigiri.”</p><p>“So this thief has an onigiri fetish. Good to know.”</p><p>“...Citron, please, just. <em> No</em>.” </p><p>“So what’s the plan?” Sakuya bounced on his toes. “Are we going to dust for prints?”</p><p>“We could set up a security camera.”</p><p>“Or hire a private investigator.”</p><p>Izumi shook her head. “No, no, and definitely no. That’s way out of our budget.”</p><p>“We have a budget?”</p><p>Izumi ignored Masumi. “I have a mini fridge in my room. I don’t use it much, so you can have it if you want.”</p><p>“Are you sure?” Tsuzuru asked. </p><p>“Absolutely!” she nodded. She’d brought the fridge from her old apartment, but with a full-size one at the dorms it had just become redundant. “I was planning on getting rid of it anyway. It’ll be a win-win situation for both of us!” </p><p>“Ah, okay. If you insist.” </p><p>He helped carry it down the stairs, grateful for all those times he worked for moving companies. The compact refrigerator found a snug place between his desk and the wall (after pushing his desk to the right a few inches), and soon it was plugged in and humming with energy. </p><p>Two days passed, and things resumed to normal, or at least as normal as they could be.  Tsuzuru did find himself watching the other troupe members more often, sitting back and quietly observing their actions to try to see if anyone was acting remorseful, at least before Itaru cuffed him on the back of the head and told him to stop staring like a creep.  He grumbled and smoothed his hair back down, but Itaru was right. Nobody was messing with his food now, so the initial incident had probably been a mistake on someone’s part they were too embarrassed to fess up to. Problem solved, right?</p><p>Wrong. On the third morning, Tsuzuru came to the table with the bentoes he had brought last night. He dumped the three boxes on the table unceremoniously, making a loud thudding noise.</p><p>“Again?” Izumi asked. </p><p>Tsuzuru nodded. “Again.”</p><p>“What’s up?” Itaru looked up from his phone briefly. Izumi explained the situation. </p><p>“Someone’s been taking Tsuzuru’s food, and we don’t know who it is.”</p><p>“No, I do, actually.” Tsuzuru said. He glared at Masumi, who stared back coldly. </p><p>“Have you tried locking it up?” Itaru suggested, going back to his game. </p><p>“Good idea,” Tsuzuru said, not breaking eye contact. </p><p>That night, once he was certain Masumi was asleep, he locked the door before climbing into bed. There, he thought. This will prove if he’s innocent or not. </p><p>Masumi Usui, as the evidence proved the following morning, was not innocent.</p><p>“It wasn’t me,” he insisted when Tsuzuru showed him the tampered boxes and locked door. </p><p>Tsuzuru rubbed his forehead. “Look, I get it, you’re a teenager, you get hungry in the middle of the night and need snacks. I’m just asking you,” he gestured wildly. “To leave my stuff alone!” </p><p>“And I’m telling you. It. Wasn’t. Me.” Masumi snapped, irritated at both the accusations and being woken up so early in the morning. </p><p>Tsuzuru threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Keep saying that. It’s not like I have to actually pay money for those or anything.”</p><p>“Sure, whatever. I’m going back to bed.” Masumi climbed up and pulled the covers over his head. Tsuzuru bit back several choice words that would be inappropriate, he reminded himself, to say to a high schooler. No matter how infuriating that high schooler might be. He had an 8 am class today, so he could talk to him when he got back. </p><p>“Oh, Tsuzuru, I’m glad I caught you!” Izumi said as he was fixing to step out. “Remember what Itaru said yesterday?” </p><p>“About locking up?" He couldn’t keep the scowl from appearing on his face. "Yep, tried it. Didn’t work.” </p><p>“Oh. Well, I got this at the hardware store.” She held up a padlock. “Do you think it might help?”</p><p>Tsuzuru blinked, his face softening. “Actually, yeah. Thanks a lot.”</p><p>“No problem. Have a good day at class!” </p><p>Tsuzuru grinned as he waved back to her. Now this might work. </p><p>The lock operated on a numerical code, so the only chance of breaking in would be if the thief could find the correct numbers. He yanked on it to test it, satisfied when the door remained bolted shut. The only physical copy of the code was buried deep in the files of his password-protected phone, which he carefully placed inside his pillow as another precaution before climbing into bed and nodding off.</p><p>
  <em> CLANK. </em>
</p><p>Tsuzuru’s eyes shot open. “Masumi, I know it’s you.”</p><p>Light snoring emitted from the other bed. Tsuzuru slowly crawled over to the partition dividing them, lightly poking the other boy. “Masumi?” he whispered.</p><p>“Mmrpgh,” Masumi grumbled and rolled over. Not even he could act so convincingly, Tsuzuru realized. Which meant the noise must have come from something else. </p><p>He found his phone and turned it on, facing it downwards to illuminate the fridge. The lock was still on it, and most importantly, locked. Tsuzuru slowly swept the light across the room, looking for anything out of place. Everything seemed fine. He leaned over and checked the floor below the loft. Still nothing. Tsuzuru clicked off his phone and sighed. Maybe he was being paranoid. </p><p>Underneath his bed, hanging upside down like a bat, a pair of orange eyes blinked. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>"Hey! Open up!" The door to Citron and Sakuya's room rattled with every blow delivered to it. Citron opened the door, affixing a cautious smile to his face in contrast to the other's deep scowl. </p><p>"Ah, Itaru, what's wrong? You look very dissed."</p><p>"You mean pissed," Sakuya corrected, joining him. </p><p>"Hell yeah, I'm pissed!" He snapped. "Did you go into my room?!"</p><p>Citron shook his head. "Your room? No, of course not."</p><p>"Don't you keep your door locked?" Sakuya added. </p><p>Itaru glared. "You better not be lying." He looked like he was planning a homicide, and didn't care who the victim would be. </p><p>"We are telling the truth," Citron said, holding up his hands placatingly. Sakuya copied his movements. "Did you lose something?"</p><p>"My PS4 controller," he grunted. "It's missing."</p><p>"Maybe you just misplaced it?" Sakuya suggested. </p><p>Itaru scoffed. "I wouldn't just 'misplace' an entire controller, you F2P noob." Unlike what other people thought, there was a certain order to his room. All games and systems had their place. </p><p>“Um..” still keeping his hands up, Sakuya leaned over to Citron and stage-whispered, “Was that supposed to be an insult?”</p><p>“Yes,” Citron nodded seriously. </p><p>Itaru ran his hand through his hair. There was supposed to be a limited item drop in a few minutes, and he had so been looking forward to whaling on those loot boxes. If he missed this event because some asshole decided to prank him, there would be hell to pay. </p><p>“Dammit, I know Masumi had something to do with this,” he muttered. Sakuya bit his lip and looked at Citron. Ever since what had been dubbed “the onigiri incident”, trust in the youngest member of their troupe had dropped considerably. </p><p>“We still don’t know for sure if it was Masumi.”</p><p>“I agree with Sakuya!” Citron nodded. “Guilty until proven innocent, right?”</p><p>Itaru’s mouth quirked. “You got your phrasing mixed up again.” He frowned. “Although you might be onto something….”</p><p>“No,” Sakuya interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t think Masumi took your game thing.” </p><p>“Controller. It’s a - nevermind. You know that for sure?”</p><p>“...I don’t,” he admitted. “But I go to school with him, and he’s never done this kind of stuff before. I’m sure there’s a good explanation for what happened….” He trailed off.</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Uh, sleepwalking?”</p><p>Itaru <em> hmm</em>ed. He might not be as trusting as Mr. Optimistic over there, but sleepwalking was a probability. He himself had woken up to find levels he didn’t remember clearing more than once. </p><p>“Want us to help you look for your controller?”</p><p>Itaru checked the time on his phone and grimaced. “Nah, it’s fine.” <em> I’m already running late. </em> “I’ll just use my backup one for now.”</p><p>He went back to his own room and dug out the Dualshock from the cabinet. (It was a good thing it had been charging, otherwise Itaru would’ve been in a heap of trouble.) He turned it on and connected it to the TV. The indicator light blinked and lit up red. </p><p><em> Finally… </em>he sighed in relief and opened <em> Dead Sea</em>, the hot new multiplayer game. It had just come out two weeks ago, so of course Itaru was already at level 105 and the de facto leader of his party. </p><p>His avatar formed to life on the deck of a sunken pirate ship. He could explore the ship and find treasure boxes. Two other party members were online as well. Itaru opened the chat log on the side as he headed belowdecks.</p><p>CHAT</p><p>&gt; TARUCHI has entered the chat</p><p>TARUCHI: where r u guys</p><p>SR153: dude</p><p>SR153: where were u?</p><p>TARUCHI: rl stuff. Now tell me what level ur at.</p><p>NEO: 69 </p><p>So they had already done 68 while he was out. That was fine. He could deal with that. </p><p>TARUCHI: nice</p><p>NEO: nice</p><p>SR153: nice</p><p>What annoyed him was how the other player - Neo - was now only one level below him. The game operated on a democratic system where the player with the highest level automatically became the team leader. If he ranked up today, Itaru would be demoted, and all his hard work would have been for nothing. He’d have to be on guard for this mission. </p><p>His avatar joined the others on level 69 (nice). He had a gold star floating above his head which signified him as the captain. Neo had a silver star for being the second in command. SR153 had a silver circle due to being just a casual (not that Itaru was judging or anything).</p><p>Itaru switched to first-person view as he looked around the cabins. There were nine rooms, so they agreed to take three each to cover more ground. He found a map in the first one and a cutlass in the second, putting both in his inventory. Then he opened the third room. </p><p>The screen went black for a second. Then the room appeared, with several treasure boxes...and zombies.</p><p>TARUCHI: found a hotspot</p><p>TARUCHI: room 6</p><p>The zombies in tattered sailor uniforms shuffled forward. Itaru unloaded his blunderbuss (that was a fun word to say. Blunderbuss. Blunnnderrrbusss.) and shot at the first one. It stumbled back. Two more shots, and it exploded. Three shots for each deceased crewman of this sunken ship, times ten crewman - and Itaru only had 21 bullets. </p><p>TARUCHI: backup needed</p><p>It was a good thing these zombies were slow movers. </p><p>Itaru shot and killed four more until Neo showed up. Neo’s avatar pulled out a saber - <em> when’d he get that? </em> - and slashed through three of the undead effortlessly. Gold coins appeared when the zombies vanished and the other player collected them. Their EXP was rising fast, Itaru noted with a <em> tch </em>, he’d have to do some serious action, and quick. </p><p>One of the last zombies stumbled towards him. Itaru set the sight on it and pulled the trigger.  </p><p>The screen suddenly shifted to bird’s-eye view. </p><p>“What the-!” Itaru yanked his thumb off the button, but the damage was already done. </p><p>NEO: DUDE </p><p>NEO: FUCK</p><p>NEO: OFF</p><p>TARUCHI: my screen glitched</p><p>NEO: sure</p><p>NEO: you SHOT ME</p><p>Like he would do it on purpose! Injuring teammates had major repercussions in this game. Hell, his own XP was taking the hit for that now. </p><p>TARUCHI:  dude. it was an accident. chill.  </p><p>He fixed the screen settings just as Neo killed the last zombie. Itaru's scowl deepened, that should have been his kill, his prize, his treasure-</p><p>Speaking of treasure, a wooden chest spawned in the air where the last zombie had been. </p><p>&gt; NEO found TREASURE CHEST</p><p>"No…" Itaru whispered in horror.</p><p>&gt; NEO opened TREASURE CHEST</p><p>&gt; NEO got 50.000 GOLD COINS!</p><p>&gt;NEO got +15 XP!</p><p>&gt;NEO got +25 XP!</p><p>&gt;NEO got +50 XP!</p><p>"No no no no no no!" Itaru tossed the controller aside and ran to the tv, grabbing the edges as he stared at the screen in horror.</p><p>&gt; LEVEL UP: NEO </p><p>105 → 106</p><p>&gt; NEO IS NOW CAPTAIN!</p><p>&gt; TARUCHI HAS BEEN DEMOTED!</p><p>"This can't be happening." Itaru stepped back, watching the celebratory virtual fireworks explode on screen. All that work, all those all nighters, and for what? This? Being demoted by some punk-ass 17-year-old who still thought 69 = nice was funny? (No, it was funny. Itaru needed a better insult. Or at least one that didn't circle back to him.)</p><p>SR153: congrats</p><p>NEO: <em> nice  </em></p><p>Alright, this meme was getting overplayed. He turned the TV off, his glare reflecting back from the darkened screen. </p><p>Someone, somewhere, was going to pay dearly. </p><p>
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</p><p>Late nights, Citron thought, were perfect for studying. The chaos from the busy day had quieted, replaced with the song of the cicadas as they harmonized in the courtyard. His and Sakuya’s room was dim, lit up only by the lamp on his desk and Sakuya’s phone as he scrolled through his feed in bed. Citron turned the page, wrote something down, frowned, crossed it out, and wrote it again. </p><p>Zahran was based on a constanantal root system, where changing the vowels was all one needed to indicate gender or tense. As long as a person knew what the root was and had some common sense, it wasn’t hard to figure out the language at all. In fact, lots of vowels could even be omitted when written down! This was a far cry from Japanese, which seemed happily determined to have the most arbitrary grammatical structure in the world. Citron wasn’t complaining, though. It was like his English tutor told him when he was younger, language was the gate to a world of opportunity, and studying was the key to unlock that gate. At least, that’s what he told himself as his eyes glazed over reading about the importance of adding ん before です (something Izumi had casually mentioned he might want to review). <em> I have an exam tomorrow</em>, <em> I have an exam tomorrow</em>; two nearly identical sentences could change meaning completely with one small character. It was incredible, he thought, even if staring at the kanji by lamplight for the past hour meant they were starting to swim off the page. </p><p>Suddenly, Sakuya started snickering as he watched something on his phone. Citron closed his textbook - that was enough studying for one night - and popped up the ladder to his roommate’s loft. </p><p>“What is funny?” </p><p>“Hehe, look at this.” Sakuya restarted the video and hit play. A cat entered a kitchen and jumped onto a table. The feline pawed at several glasses on the table, coming close to knocking them off but never quite going through with it. Someone offscreen called to the cat, and it jumped off...only to run back a second later and knock them all off as the owner yelled. </p><p>Citron burst out laughing. </p><p>“Wanna see more?” Sakuya grinned.</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Sakuya moved over so Citron could climb into the bed. Then he hit the next video, and a cat started screaming at a mirror. There was a cat falling into a bathtub, two kittens bobbing their head to music, a grumpy-looking Siamese cat, and several afraid of cucumbers. </p><p>“They are so cute!” Citron gushed. “Is there a word that means ‘better than cute’?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Sakuya thought for a moment. “Adorable?”</p><p>“Adorable….” he repeated. “I like it!” </p><p>“Do you like cats, Citron?”</p><p>He nodded. “Back in Zahra, I had a pet leopard.”</p><p>“Really?” The younger boy’s eyes sparkled. “Wow!”</p><p>Citron paused. Then he chuckled. “You’re adorable, Sakuya.”</p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>They watched a few more videos before Sakuya started yawning, so Citron told him goodnight and climbed over to his own bed. Sakuya passed out and started snoring within minutes. Citron, however, found himself staring at the ceiling. Even if he didn’t miss home terribly, small reminders always found a way to worm under his skin when he least expected it. It was funny, when Sakuya was excited he almost looked like-</p><p>He turned to the wall and hugged his pillow to his chest. <em> I wonder what my brothers are doing now. </em></p><p>That was not a thought he wanted to dwell on, and lying awake in bed wasn’t going to be helpful to anyone. Maybe if he had a glass of milk, that would help him relax enough to go to sleep. </p><p>He shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes blearily. He didn’t want to turn on the main light, so he left the fridge open as he poured a glass and gulped it down. The milk was sweet and cool in his mouth. Citron tilted his head back to get the last drops-</p><p>
  <em> Someone, no, something with luminous gold eyes and inhumanly long limbs, was crouched on top of the fridge.  </em>
</p><p>“GYAH!” Citron jumped back. Then he blinked. The creature was gone. </p><p>He shook his head, muttering a prayer as he checked the expiration date on the milk. Just to be safe, he poured it all down the drain. </p><p>The next morning, he found Izumi standing in front of the refrigerator. </p><p>“I could’ve sworn I bought milk yesterday,” she mumbled. </p><p>“Oh, are we out?” He asked innocently.</p><p>“Mhmm,” she sighed. “Guess I’ll have to get some at the store today.”</p><p>“Can you get more salt too? I think we’re running low.”</p><p>Izumi’s gaze shifted to the floor, where a line of suspiciously familiar white grains encircled the room. Several questions popped into her head, but she dismissed them just as quickly because honestly, did she even want to know? “Sure. No problem.”</p><p>
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  <em> “You’re not a ghost!” </em>
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  <em> “You guys want some onigiri too?” </em>
</p><p>Well, that was certainly an...unorthodox way to recruit an actor. But with the debt staring Izumi directly in the face, beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers. Besides, she wasn’t about to let someone with those kinds of physical chops slip through her fingers. </p><p>“Ready?” Kazunari yelled from the middle of the courtyard, holding his phone up with one hand and a cupcake in another. Misumi gave a thumbs up from where he was perched on the balcony, swinging his legs.</p><p>“Go!” Kazunari tossed the cupcake into the air. Misumi jumped down, flipped, and landed with the pastry in his hands, intact and unharmed. </p><p>“Yeah!” Kazunari ran up to Misumi, holding his hand up. The other looked a little uncertain, but he held his hand up too, which was slapped enthusiastically. “That was awesome, dude! You’re totes gonna go viral for sure!”</p><p>Izumi sat back in her chair and sipped her cola. Kazunari had been insistent on throwing a party to celebrate Summer Troupe’s formation, and she had to hand it to him, for something thrown together last minute it wasn’t bad. There was pizza and cupcakes, along with several varieties of chips and sodas (he’d pestered her about bringing out some wine, until she reminded him most of the partygoers would be underage, <em> including him</em>). A speaker was playing upbeat pop music, loud enough to hear but not so loud you couldn’t carry a conversation. </p><p>“Kazu, here.” Misumi held out the cupcake. </p><p>“You don’t want it?”</p><p>He shook his head. “Cupcakes are circles~”</p><p>“Oh...thanks, man!” Kazunari bit into the cupcake, getting icing on his nose. Izumi choked back a laugh. </p><p>“What?” He asked. </p><p>“Nothing.” </p><p>Itaru and Citron were telling Muku how he could get a rare cat villager in <em> Animal Crossing</em>. Tenma had made an offhand comment about the quality of the pizza, which prompted Yuki to mutter something about “damn stuck-up celebrities”, which then escalated into their current conversation. Sakuya and Tsuzuru were chatting about a movie they had seen a few days ago over cupcakes, and Masumi was all over Izumi. </p><p>“What kind of cake do you like?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Izumi tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I think plain vanilla or chocolate is pretty good, but I like strawberry too. Ooh, and red velvet, and lemon. It’s hard to pick, I like all of them.” </p><p>Masumi counted on his fingers. “...so do you want five cakes?”</p><p>“Five cakes?” She asked in confusion. </p><p>“Or we can do one cake with five levels. Lots of wedding cakes have levels.”</p><p><em> Ah</em>. “I think I’ll worry about that when I get married.”</p><p>The sun set, and the atmosphere of the party slowly started to wind down. Izumi ordered the two middle schoolers off to the baths since it was a school night, and now everyone else was in charge of party cleanup. The three left in the Summer Troupe were in charge of putting away the folding chairs and tables, and Izumi joined the Spring Troupe in picking up the last remnants of empty soda cans and chip bags. </p><p>She threw away a crumpled Doritos bag.  That reminded her….</p><p>“Hey, guys, you haven’t noticed anything strange living here, have you?”</p><p>“You mean stranger than Citron?” Itaru quipped. </p><p>“No, I mean, regarding room 203-”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. The ghost.” He said casually. Izumi blanched.</p><p>“You know the legend?”</p><p>“Yes?” he answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We all do.”</p><p>“Matsukawa told me about it,” Sakuya chimed in. “He said he can hear it if he goes near the room. Like,” he lowered his voice and hissed, “<em> sss...trr...aaangle…</em>. That’s why I never go near the second floor.” He shivered. </p><p>“I hear the floor creaking above my room at night.”</p><p>“Floors creak all the time, Itaru,” Tsuzuru sighed. “Ghosts aren’t real, Director. If you heard anything it was probably a squirrel.”</p><p>“No, it’s real! I saw it!” </p><p>Izumi whipped her head around to stare at Citron. “You did?”</p><p>He nodded. “Yes! It had big glowing eyes, and sharp fangs, and many long legs like a spider!”</p><p>She facepalmed. </p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Okay, I don’t know what <em> you </em>saw, but the ghost is real.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s what I just said!”</p><p>She held up her hand. “But it’s not actually a ghost.”</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Tsuzuru said. Izumi hummed. </p><p>“It’s a little hard to explain-”</p><p>“Some drifter’s been squatting in the dorms.”</p><p>“...Yes. Thank you, Masumi.” </p><p>Tsuzuru looked alarmed. “I’m sorry, what? We had an intruder?”</p><p>“Neat. It’s like that horror rpg that came out a few years ago.”</p><p>“No, not ‘neat’!” he protested. “What happened? Did you call the police?”</p><p>“Well….” </p><p>Izumi left and came back a moment later with one of the new Summer actors. “Everyone, this is Misumi. Misumi, this is the Spring Troupe.”</p><p>He waved. “Hi~”.</p><p>“He’s the one who took my socks,” Masumi told Tsuzuru. “And your onigiri.”</p><p>“Onigiri are amazing!” Misumi chirped. </p><p>Tsuzuru blinked. “Wait, that was you? How’d you even get in my room?”</p><p>“Through the window!”</p><p>“The window- right. Of course. Why not.”</p><p>“And you've been in all of our rooms?"</p><p>"Yep!" He leaned forward. " You have lots of good triangles in your room, Itaru~"</p><p>"I have no idea what that means, but thanks, I guess?"</p><p>Misumi beamed.</p><p>
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</p><p>Izumi knocked on the door. "Misumi, you in there?" </p><p>No response. She opened the door and stepped in, looking around. Yuki followed, his nose scrunching up with disdain at the messy room. </p><p>"Did you see him leave?" </p><p>Yuki pointed to the open window. Oh, right. Izumi went to it and leaned out. "Misumi!"</p><p>"Yeah?" He asked, suddenly appearing upside down in front of her. Izumi jumped back. </p><p>"Gah! You scared me. What are you doing on the roof?" </p><p>"Looking for triangle clouds!"</p><p>"...right. Um, Tenma wants everyone to meet in the living room in a few minutes."</p><p>"Okay!" Izumi stepped to the side as he climbed back in. </p><p>Yuki nudged something with his foot. "You have way too much junk, Trianglian."</p><p>That was true, despite Misumi's loud protest that it wasn't. There wasn't a floor in this room as much as thin trails where stuff wasn't piled. Could they get ten million yen for being on a hoarder's episode? </p><p>Probably not. </p><p>Izumi picked up a pair of socks. "Aren’t these Masumi’s socks? Where'd you even get these?"</p><p>"From the laundry room," he said, as if it were obvious. Izumi ran her fingers through her hair. </p><p>"Okay, starting from now, no more taking other people's things."</p><p>"But what if they don't want it?" </p><p>Izumi crossed her arms sternly. "No. And give Masumi's socks back."</p><p>"What about the other stuff?"</p><p>“Yes, that too.” She nodded firmly, before looking again at his...collection. “Do you remember where everything came from?”</p><p>“Yes,” he sighed. Then he ran to his desk and rummaged around in one of the drawers until he found something.</p><p>"Here."</p><p>Izumi blinked. "Is this...my earring?" In all honesty, in the last few months it's twin had been in the box, she had completely forgotten about it. </p><p>"Mhmm," Misumi said. “It was on the floor in the hall.”</p><p>“Thanks.” she held up the jewelry. Sunlight from the open window hit the gilded plating, causing tiny refractions of light to dance across the room. Misumi stared at it. </p><p>“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Izumi said. He nodded. </p><p>“Sparkly~” </p><p><em> Not nearly as much as your eyes</em>. What the heck, she had plenty of other earrings. </p><p>“You can have it.”</p><p>“Really? Thanks!”</p><p>Yuki coughed something that sounded suspiciously like “<em> enabler "</em>, but Izumi ignored him. “You still have to give everyone else their stuff back, you know.”</p><p>He nodded, turning the earring around to watch the light hit it. “I will~.”</p><p>
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</p><p>It took two more weeks and several more reminders from Izumi, but at last Misumi came down at breakfast carrying several boxes. </p><p>"What's that for, Sumi?" Kazunari asked around a mouthful of egg rice. Yuki glared at him in barely-concealed disgust. </p><p>"Is that everything you took?"</p><p>"Mhmm," Misumi nodded forlornly, before looking up. "If there's anything you don't want-"</p><p>"We can cross that bridge later."</p><p>"Okay," he sighed. "Here's your socks."</p><p>Masumi took the box wordlessly. It was halfway filled with various junk, pens and paper scraps (probably Tsuzuru's).</p><p>"I'll make you more onigiri," he promised. The playwright nodded. </p><p>Sakuya and Citron were given their box, which was, once again, filled with junk. </p><p>"I'm really going to throw most of this away," Sakuya said. "Citron?"</p><p>"I do not need this either," he answered. "Oh! Except for this traditional Japanese decoration."</p><p>"That's a Zelda wall scroll." Itaru said. He looked into his own box and went silent. </p><p>Misumi was sitting on the counter as he waited for his toast to cook (toast might be square, but he could cut it into triangles, so it was still good). Suddenly Itaru jumped up and stalked over, grabbing him by the collar. </p><p>"What the hell is this?"</p><p>"Hang on, Itaru-" Izumi started. Misumi blinked slowly. </p><p>"You're the one who took my PS4 controller?" He snapped. "Do you have any idea what that cost me?"</p><p>"Um…"</p><p>“Whoa, Itarun, let’s calm down a little,” Kazunari interrupted. </p><p>“Stay out of this, VSCO boy.”</p><p>"Bye!" Misumi tore away and bounded up the stairs in three steps. Itaru growled and gave chase, stopping halfway up the stairs to catch his breath. <em> Damn, I knew I should've played more Wii Sports Resort.  </em></p><p>"Think they'll be okay?" Izumi asked. </p><p>"SON OF A-" Tsuzuru clamped his hands over Muku's ears and grimaced.  "GET DOWN HERE AND FACE ME!"</p><p>"I think they'll be fine."</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
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